Finding Effie
by illyna
Summary: Post Mockingjay, and all is going as well as possible for those in Twelve. But where is Effie Trinket?
1. One

**One**

It was nice to see Plutarch Heavensbee, he told himself, but after three Haymitch was glad that the man was leaving Twelve. They had spent long nights reminiscing and sorting out paperwork regarding the Mockingjay and discussing new plans. Plutarch had begged Haymitch would come and sit on one of Paylor's monthly Regeneration Committees. Haymitch had declined as politely as possible - again. He really needed a drink right about now.

As they approached the station Plutarch clapped him on the shoulder briefly.

"Well, Haymitch, the offer is always there if you change your mind. We could always use another strong voice on the council. Someone who knows and will speak your mind… you know… rather than all these stuffy suits."

"I don't think so Heavensbee." Haymitch was already planning his trip to The Hob to stock up on booze. "Safe journey back now."

Plutarch boarded the train. He stuck his head out of the sash window, brown hair mussed by the effort.

"Haymitch, I forgot to ask – you've not heard from Effie Trinket have you?"

Haymitch had not thought about the escort in the year since Coin's assassination. Last he'd heard Effie was working in the Capitol with the new government in an advisory capacity. They'd never been particularly close – she had grated on his nerves immensely during the Games with that awful voice and chipper attitude. Afterwards, once the rebellion had been and gone, there had been so much else going on that she had faded from view.

She had been pretty messed up when they rescued her though; he would never forget that.

"She's with you ain't she? Working for Paylor. She's the one with the pink stuff on her head, you can't miss her."

Wrinkles formed on Plutarch's brow.

"She was… yes. She took a week's vacation – that was two months ago now. Nobody has seen her since. If you hear anything you'll let me know – yes?"

"Sure." Now Haymitch was puzzled. Being a punctual and accurate workaholic was Trinket's raison d'etre. Something here seemed very wrong.

* * *

**_This piece started life as a Choose Your Own Adventure on tumblr - hence updates may be sporadic and small - but please enjoy what there is!_**


	2. Two

**Two**

Haymitch takes his time walking to the Hob. This business with Trinket was playing on his mind, and the fresh air gave him time to mull things over. There had been rumours of small civil uprisings in some parts of the Capitol – minor things – protests and petitions against Paylor's government. Effie Trinket was a very recognisable lady and her pardon and subsequent seat in the new administration had rubbed more than a few people the wrong way.

Haymitch shook his head, taking a hit from the new bottle of liquor in his hand. Even if it seemed out of character it was much more likely that the darned woman had gone on holiday and been distracted by something new and shiny. She from the Capitol, after all.

Haymitch barged into Peeta's house without knocking. Fresh bread was cooling in the centre of the kitchen table and he helped himself to a thick slice. Katniss joined him, still dressed in hunting leathers, her long braid hanging over one shoulder.

"Kids, have you heard from Effie at all?" Haymitch fills them in on his conversation with Plutarch.

Katniss scrunched her nose in thought. "Not in a couple of months, now you come to mention it. That's odd, she usually calls once about once a week."

"She calls you?" Haymitch asks incredulously. He ignores the strange pang of jealousy that flares in him – he worked with the escort for years and hasn't heard a thing from her.

"Yes," Katniss does a passable impression of her clipped Capitol accent, "Just to see how you are doing, my darlings!"

Peeta grimaces and places his floury hand on Katniss' shoulder. "Don't be cruel. Effie's obviously terribly lonely. She talks about work, and fashion and everything she should, but she never mentions any people. I don't think she has anyone else."

Katniss contemplates this, fiddling with the end of her plait. "Yeah, you're right. Maybe we should invite her to stay sometime."

Haymitch frowns. "So nothing from her recently though?"

"We had a postcard about six weeks back. From Four I think. She was on holiday?" Peeta pulls a wooden box off the mantel and starts to pull out envelopes. "She sends stuff sometimes, snippets from magazines and recipes and spices. You've not heard from her Haymitch?"

He ignores the sour taste in his mouth. "She doesn't call me."

"That's probably because your phone is disconnected." Katniss rolls hers eyes; Haymitch suddenly feels very foolish.

"Does she write to you?" Peeta asks.

Haymitch thinks of the large stack of mail clogging up his hallway – the one he always pointedly ignores until it gets big enough to burn.

"Uh. I've not checked recently..."

Peeta presents the postcard with a flourish. Pictures of the ocean cover one side, and the other is full of tiny pink writing. Haymitch has to squint to read it.

"Some work trip to Four's City Hall and then a vacation, she says. At least we know she got that far."


	3. Three

**Three**

Haymitch rather reluctantly admits that, maybe, quite possibly, he hasn't checked his mail. Ever. Disbelief crosses the face of both Peeta and Katniss; even Haymitch can't be that slovenly.

"Just come and see if you don't believe me. I just chuck it all in the fire every few months. Burns nice."

Katniss laughs, and Peeta shakes his head dissaprovingly. They both trail him back across Victor's Village, and climb the steps to his dilapidated house.

His post has been stacked neatly into piles wrapped in brown string, and Haymitch figures he should thank Hazelle Hawthorne for that. She's done wonders for his home: he'd quite happily live in filth if left to his own devices.

"Get stuck in then." He chucks a handful at Peeta and dumps the rest unceremoniously on the dining room floor.

They spend the next hour opening and sorting post. He has letters from people he wouldn't have thought – news, birthday cards, and photographs. Annie Cresta has sent him a picture of her young son along with an invite to his naming ceremony the week after next. He is called Reed and is the spitting image of his father.

There are dozens of envelopes from Effie Trinket; he recognises her neat script immediately from her copious scheduling in the past. He pulls them all to one side and after arranging them in date order starts to read.

Peeta has it right – Effie's letters lack the colour and vibrancy she's renowned for. She's going through the motions of life, doing what she should be without any of the verve, and it comes across as brittle and false. He skims a paragraph about her struggle to source a new wig and gets the impression that she actually couldn't care less.

She ends every letter bidding him to get in touch, how she'd love to hear from him. Haymitch feels awful. This is the only honest thing in all her letters - that she misses them.

Her newest note is different.

_Dear Haymitch,_

_I hate to impose – to ask this outright, but I am feeling a touch overwhelmed. Please can I come to Twelve to visit with you? I do not want to bother Peeta and Katniss, not whilst they are building a life together._

_Things in the Capitol are a getting difficult at the moment and I am a little scared. I could do with getting some distance. It need not be for long and I would keep out of your way. I am happy to bring you Capitol alcohol if you would like some._

_I know you do not like writing and you have no phone line – but you could ask Peeta to confirm if I can come? I hope to see you soon._

_Thank you, Haymitch._

_Yours,_

_Effie_

Haymitch checks the date. It was sent a few weeks before Effie's disappearance.

"I guess you didn't reply then?" asks Peeta.

"No, I didn't even know. You're right, she doesn't sound herself. And talking about being scared?" They sort the piles a while longer but find nothing else useful.

"Would you have let her stay, Haymitch?" Katniss enquires.

"I don't know. It's not like we ever really got on. But the Rebellion - it changed people."

Haymitch thinks about last time he saw her in Thirteen. Her eyes were hollow, ringed with dark circles and she had clung to his arm. She was lost and scared then too and he was abrupt with her, more concerned about his trip back to bombed out Twelve. He feels bad about that now.

A quick glance at the photo of baby Reed propped up on the mantel makes up his mind. He'll head to Four for the name giving ceremony and take a look around for Effie whilst he's there. After all the times she cleaned up after him he owes her that much at least.


End file.
